Chapter Text
The apartment was peaceful and quiet, as it always was when Po came home after a day at the suit shop. He turned on his kettle and prepped his favorite tea. The aroma as it steamed in his cup was already relaxing all his stress as he set it down on the coffee table and turned on his computer. His job at the suit shop was done, but now he had to complete work for his main job.
The suit shop was nice part-time work, but most of Po’s money came from his work as an editor. A company collected all the footage and then sent it to him with the type of finished image or video they were looking for. At that moment, he was sifting through the footage he’d been sent for a mini documentary.
The band was called MARS, and they had a concert coming up to celebrate five years as a group. Po sifted through biographies of the guys, watched previous music videos and behind the scenes content, and then started through the hours of recorded content sent specifically for the documentary. While the new footage played at 2x speed, Po also took notes of good shots and ideas he had for how to present them, which songs might work with it, certain video effects or transitions. He’d worked extensively with MARS footage before, so he had a good idea where to start, but there was a lot of new interviews to work with too.
After two hours of work, he took a break and moved to his balcony. The sun was long ago set, but he put in his headphones, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes to enjoy the peace of the wind and the space. Up there on the balcony, he could breathe.
Bzzt!
Lazily, Po pulled his phone out.
‘From: Baifern
Check out my man! He’s so talented! 🫶 ✨’
Amused, Po clicked her link. Baifern was single, but she was absolutely in love with the singer Pepper, who happened to be from MARS. He hadn’t told her, yet, that he was working on their new documentary. In the linked video, Pepper was practicing one of the group’s dance routines. He was sweating through his shirt, his hair plastered back with sweat and a headband, and his dance moves were sharp and forceful.
It was certainly an impressive show of talent. The comments were full of love and appreciation, but then some were full of praying hand emojis and well wishes. Po frowned and went to the caption of the video.
“Fight hard for your dreams. Never stop. We haven’t given up on you, so you can’t give up on yourself. #keepfighting #MARS4Life #OT5”
It sounded inspiring, but it had Po looking somberly out at the city lights. It was impossible that Baifern didn’t know what had happened. She was the owner of the largest MARS fanpage, so of course she’d already shared messages of hope and prayer last week. Last week, while practicing for their concert, a stage light had fallen. Pepper had been below it, but he was saved when his bandmate pushed him out of the way and to safety. Pepper had made it out with a twisted ankle. His bandmate…
Teema Kanjanakittkul, nicknamed Thame, had been severely injured by the equipment and rushed to the hospital. Fans knew, of course, that he was in serious condition, but they didn’t know the full truth. Thame was comatose. According to the meetings Po had gone through about his documentary, he was supposed to make two versions: one for if Thame made it out of the hospital, a bit bruised but otherwise alright, and one for if the worst should happen and he never woke up again.
It seemed the company was downplaying Thame’s condition by focusing attention on the other members, especially Pepper as he recovered. Older, but unreleased, photos of Thame were also uploaded to social media. But it wouldn’t be long before people started noticing the lack of new Thame content.
Sighing, Po went back inside and started working on the documentary again. It would be at least another hour before he could call it a night.
The next day, Po walked into Oner Entertainment to collect a hard drive with new footage on it. They could have mailed it, but Po opted to come in when possible. If nothing else, it got him out of his home and gave him some human interaction.
An assistant named Ming was meant to hand over the footage, but when Po arrived she was sitting with another man and talking in distracted and distressed whispers. After a moment, Po recognized the man as another member of MARS. This was Nano, and he was crying. It would be rude to interrupt the moment, so Po stood awkwardly on the other side of the room, just watching.
It was clear that the other band members were struggling with the fate of their friend. Po had watched countless behind the scenes shots, and he could tell how much all the members cared for each other. He could only imagine the stress the situation was giving each of them.
“Some people cry. Some people practice even harder. And some people distract themselves however possible,” a voice said by Po’s shoulder. He jerked away and looked at who had spoken. Jun, the backup vocalist for the band. He gave Po a once over, frowning. “I know you, don’t I?”
“Po. Uh. I’m the video editor,” Po murmured, uncertain. “I’m creating the documentary for your concert. I’ve also edited some of your music videos. But, um, we were in an actual meeting together about a month ago.”
Jun nodded with sudden remembrance, then pursed his lips. “Well, whatever they told you, you’re only making one version of the thing, okay? I know Ms. Pemika and Mick don’t show it, but we all know the truth. Thame’s gonna be back with us in no time, so there’s no need for a version where he doesn’t make it. Got it?”
“Uh,” Po grunted in agreement and nodded for extra measure.
Jun did not seem appeased. “You don’t believe it either. That’s not gonna work for me. See, we need everyone believing he’ll make it. You gotta believe it too, because you’re working on the documentary video.” He shook his head. “Don’t leave. I’ll be back.”
With that, he strode away, leaving Po alone in the lounge again. Jun was attractive, but there was something about him that made Po uncomfortable. Like he was going to cause trouble somehow. Based on the footage Po had seen, that was kind of Jun’s M.O. He liked being a little sneaky, a little “bad”.
With him gone, Po returned his attention to Nano and Ming. The emotional episode seemed to be dying down as Nano accepted a tissue and dabbed at his eyes. The singer and dancer was still sitting when Ming finally took notice of Po and got to her feet.
“Oh! Po! I didn’t see you there. I’m sorry.” She walked over briskly and waved a little nervously behind her. “Don’t worry about all that. Everything’s fine. Here. The new footage.” She held out a small flash drive and smiled at him. “I know your work always comes out amazing. Good luck. I hope this one comes out happy.”
Back in the chair, Nano let out a sad squeak at her words and jumped to his feet. Without looking at anyone, Nano ran from the room, fresh tears running down his face. Ming gasped, apologized quickly to Po, and rushed out after her charge. Po didn’t envy her.
Letting out a long breath, Po slipped the flash drive into his bag and then glanced around. Jun told him not to leave, but Po had to get home to continue his work. He glanced at his watch, sighed again, and decided he would leave if Jun didn’t return within the next two minutes.
Which worked out fine, since Jun reappeared less than a minute later. He stepped over to Po with a serious expression on his otherwise handsome features. Without preamble, he thrust out his hand.
“Here. You can borrow this.” In his hand was a bracelet – simple and woven. A single charm on it was inscribed with the letter T. Before Po could accept or decline, Jun grabbed his hand and put the jewelry into his palm. “Keep it near you while you edit so you can remember that he’s gonna make it. But that’s Thame’s. So you have to give it back to him when he wakes up. Got it?”
Po looked down at the bracelet and frowned. “Is it really something I should take?”
Jun waved off his concerns. “Don’t worry about it. If it means you’ll make sure to stop thinking about him like he’s dying, that’s good enough for me. Anyway, Thame can’t complain. He’s unconscious. So take it.”
Before Po could argue the point, Jun left again. It couldn’t possibly be okay for Po to take the bracelet, but who else could he give it back to? And how would explain him having it in the first place? Frowning, he slipped the bracelet onto his wrist so he wouldn’t lose it and quickly made his exit from the building. He’d just have to hold onto the darn thing until he had another meeting with one of the members and could give it back.
At one in the morning, Po woke up. He’d only been asleep for about an hour, after working on the documentary for a few hours too many, and he blamed his tiredness on why it took his brain so long to register what had awoken him. Two things – his phone had chimed with a text, but also there was the sound of music. At first, he thought he must have left his computer on and playing MARS videos. However, after a few moments, he realized that there was no background music. It was the sound of someone singing acapella.
Someone was in his apartment.
Po sat up abruptly and strained to listen. It sounded distant, as if from a few rooms away. His apartment wasn’t that large. The kitchen maybe? Po grabbed his phone and prepped to call emergency services. He also grabbed a bat he kept in his room for security reasons. Quietly, he crept to his door then carefully, silently, opened it. The singing didn’t sound any louder, but he took careful steps out anyway.
He glanced in the bathroom, even though he heard nothing from inside. He scanned the living room space from the end of the hall and saw no one. Heart hammering, he slowly peeked his head around the edge of the hall to look into the kitchen. But again, there was no one.
The singing still sounded distant. Confusion mixing with his terror, Po glanced around. There were no other rooms for the singer to be in. Except. He turned his head toward the balcony. How or why someone would be singing on his balcony, he didn’t know, but there were no other options.
Po took one careful, hesitant step after another until he was at the edge of the curtains. Despite his efforts, Po found it hard to breathe, which only made him more anxious. He held his bat ready as his phone hand gripped the handle for the sliding balcony door. This was it. He would meet the intruder head on. There was nowhere else to run or hide.
In a rush, he flung open the sliding door and took half a step onto the balcony, bat raised. In the same moment, the singing abruptly stopped.
There was no one on the balcony.
Po stood there, chest heaving, night air blowing around him. He cast his wild eyes around the empty space, as if someone could hide behind his lone deck chair. Quickly, he moved back inside, looked around at the abandoned space, then looked back outside. He paced through his home three times, checking every nook and cranny. Checking the front door was locked.
There was no one.
The singing had sounded so close and yet so distant. Never before had Po heard any sounds from his neighbors through the walls. Stranger still, the singing had not seemed to grow louder or quieter in any room.
“What the hell?” Po whispered into his silent apartment.
Nerves still on edge, he headed back to bed. He had slipped under the blanket and was plugging his phone in to charge when he remembered that it had buzzed with a notification earlier. Upon checking, he saw it was a text. Several of them, in fact. The strange part wasn’t that it was an unknown number, but that no number seemed connected to the messages at all.
‘From: Unknown
Hello?
Are you there?
My head hurts.’
Curiosity and tension gripped him. Illogically, he wondered if the singer and the texter were the same person. But that was impossible. Still he found himself replying.
‘From: Po
Who are you?’
Barely a breath passed before the answer came. Po hadn’t even seen the dots to suggest the other person was typing.
‘From: Unknown
My name is Thame. Who are you?’
Po turned the screen off without replying. His heart had sped up anew. After the creepy singing, some strange texts were not helping his nerves. Thame was in a coma, so it wasn’t possible to be getting texts from him. Anyway, he didn’t have Po’s number. So this person was either messing with Po or happened to have the same nickname. Maybe Po should report them. You know, when it was daylight and less terrifying.
He wanted to put on some gentle music to help him sleep, but a fear that it would keep him from hearing further singing kept him from setting it up. So he lay there, awake and tense, for another two hours until his body finally succumbed to exhaustion and slept.